


Treasure Box

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Series: Tiger's Tumblr Ficlets [27]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: After Case Smut, Domestic Bliss, Lazy Holmes is Phenomenally Lazy, M/M, Prompt Fill, The Sign of Four, Top!Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after The Sign of Four, Watson and Holmes spend some time enjoying the afterglow of a case. Which is to say, Watson is determined to make sure that Holmes is actually limp as a rag for a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treasure Box

Watson gave one last wave to the young woman as her carriage pulled off from Baker Street, then he turned from the window with a warm smile to where he could already hear Holmes groaning softly into his pillow. Flicking the remains of his cigarette into the fireplace, he crossed the room, stepping over the empty treasure box on his way.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, putting the lady from his mind.

Holmes turned his head sleepily and batted a hand in the air. “Done in. Absolutely wrung out. Exhausted. I could sleep for a-“

"They’re gone, Holmes."

The detective propped himself up on an elbow, and gave a crooked grin. “You’re sure? And the doors are locked?”

Watson nodded, loosening his tie. “I am. It sounds as if Mrs Hudson has gone to the market.” He toed off his shoes and slipped out of his jacket. “Miss Morstan’s carriage is gone. Presumably headed to the train station.” His fingers hooked into the buttons of his waistcoat, teasing them open, followed by his shirt.

"I  _am_  a bit tired.” Holmes giggled, sitting up completely and shedding his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt in the time it took Watson to open his buttons. His undershirt was tossed aside, landing on Watson’s model ship. How it had ended downstairs, neither of them rightly knew.

"I’m sure you are, my love." Watson rolled his eyes and stepped out of his trousers and drawers. "Which I’m taking to mean you want me to do all of the work."

"Naturally," 

"Standard procedure, then." Watson waited until Holmes had squirmed and wriggled free of the rest of his clothes, before he climbed up onto the small creaking bed. He nearly got a knee in the eye as Holmes turned over onto his front with his slim arse in the air. It was time to start thinking about new furniture. Surely having larger than single beds in ‘bachelor’s’ quarters wouldn’t cause an excessive amount of questions.

Watson smoothed his hands over Holmes’ rump, massaging his fingers around the sharp angles. Each time his hands moved, they spread his cheeks to expose the hole between. Spreading them wider, he caused the spot to gape slightly. “You had fun this case.” he murmured, licking his thumb before rubbing it over the hole.

"I did." Holmes curled his arms around his pillow, using it to prop up his chest. When Watson ducked his head to press a tonguing kiss to his hole, he bucked and swore. His partner’s moustache scraped along his sensitive skin, just softly enough to tease rather than torment. "Now kindly put your fingers in me."

With another affectionate roll of his eyes, Watson dug in the side table until he produced a bottle of oil. “Running low,” he muttered, letting a few drops fall onto his fingers. “I’ll pick up some more tomorrow.”

"Mm. We’re low on soap, as well. And ink. And I want some new gloves. I should probably get some more writing p-"

Watson cut off the stream of domesticity by pressing a finger into Holmes. He opened easily, and immediately began grinding down onto Watson’s knuckles, demanding more. “I thought you were tired.”

"Perking up, it seems." Twisting to look back over his shoulder, Holmes ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "You did a great deal of running the past couple of days. Are you sure you’ll be able to handle more exertion?" He let out another delighted giggle when Watson added a second, and quickly a third finger, stretching him wider. The laughter faded away though, quickly replaced by pleading moans when with a doctor’s skill, Watson found and began to work over his prostate.

Holmes moved the pillow, dropping his chest flat to the mattress and tipping his hips up. Taking it for the obvious invitation it was, Watson rose up onto his knees and thrust his cock between Holmes’ cheeks to coat himself in the extra oil clinging to his soft skin. “Fast and hard, dearest?”

"Please," Holmes reached down to where his cock was lying hard and heavy between his thighs. He held his bollocks out of the way with his long fingers and used his thumb to stroke the length of himself.

To begin, Watson tried to always be gentle, letting his beautiful genius relax under the intrusion. He held Holmes firmly by the hips to keep him from trying to rock back. Murmuring reassuring nonsense and sweet praise, he bore down slowly until Holmes’ slender rump was cradled in the curve of his pelvis. He held himself there for a moment, savouring the fit before he pressed further, forcing Holmes to straighten his legs and lie flat on the bed.

Watson threaded his arms under Holmes’ then brought them back to lace his fingers on the back of his neck, pinning him completely. He kissed between his shoulderblades, nipping sharply. “Ready?” Holmes gasped, but with his head held still, wasn’t able to nod.

The thrusts were shallow to start, just a quick rocking of his hips. Soon enough though, Watson was bracing his toes on the mattress for purchase until he was snapping into Holmes with enough force to rut the other man’s cock into the sheet.

"Harder. Harder. More. Now." Holmes babbled, his eyes fluttered shut, and his cheeks flushed. Trapped between his stomach and the bed, his prick was worked over without ever being touched. When Watson thrust into him at the right angle, it was enough to send him yelling and gasping over the edge of orgasm. Hot semen spattered his sheets, leaving him with a patch of wetness to thrust into.

Watson held him through it, not letting up on him. When he felt his own orgasm building, he waited until the last possible moment before withdrawing, and taking himself in hand. With one hand braced on the back of Holmes’ neck, Watson stroked himself until he was coating the man’s sweat dampened skin with a shout of his own.

After he had caught his breath, and felt he could move without his legs giving way, Watson rose, leaving Holmes lying in the mess they had made. Not bothering to cover himself, he went into the sitting room to pour them each a drink, and then through to the bathroom to fill a basin with hot water. Holmes was still on his front, his arms and legs limp and splayed around him. He cracked an eyelid when Watson sat down, and let out a pleased purr when he began to bathe his back and legs with a warm, soapy cloth.

“Tired, now?” Watson cleaned between the mounds of his arse with great care before leaning in to give it a quick kiss.

"Wonderfully wrecked, yes." With a grunt, he rolled over and spread his legs so he could continue his bath. "And starving. Marcini’s tonight? With a concert after?"

"Whatever you want, my love." 

Later that night, Watson put the treasure box away in the attic, now nothing more than a reminder of an interesting case.

**Author's Note:**

> The mysterious case of the travelling model ship is a puzzle that will forever torment me.   
> There is a model ship that Watson is building, appears in several episodes of Granada, in different rooms. In Sign of Four, it is beside Holmes' bed.


End file.
